Silent Night
by Marti Is So Cool
Summary: Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright...or not. Written for the dmhgficexchange.


Disclaimer: None of it's mine.

Written for the dmhgficexchange.

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Silent Night

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"This is delicious, mum," Hermione Granger said, helping herself to a second helping of sugar-free Christmas pudding.

"Thank you, dear," Dr. Granger grinned. "I'm rather proud of it myself. It seems I've made extra, would you want to send a bit to your friends?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically imagining the look on Ron's face at 'sugar-free' pudding. "Oh, that would be lovely." She quickly dug into her pudding as her thoughts turned to her two best friends, Harry and Ron. At the moment, the two were probably sitting down to Christmas dinner at the Burrow with the rest of Weasleys. Hermione would have loved to be there with them, but as it were, she had her own family who never got to see her. Of course, it was not as if she wasn't enjoying her Christmas at the moment, either. Christmas at the Grangers' was always a grand occasion. The house was filled— almost bursting—with relations from near and far, and they were all currently seated cozily in the dining room, enjoying an excellent Christmas feast and engaging in a rousing conversation about football.

Crookshanks was purring on Hermione's lap accepting a small piece of turkey, when the sound of someone knocking at the door drifted into the dining room.

"It must be carolers," Hermione said, rising. "I'll get it."

She gathered Crookshanks in her arms and excused herself from the table. Locating a platter of biscuits and struggling to hold both the platter and her large cat, Hermione turned to open the door. As it swung open the first things she registered were a frigid blast of cold air and the strong smell of fire whiskey.

"Happy Chris-" she began but stopped mid-sentence.

There was a loud clang as the platter of biscuits fell to the floor. Crookshanks hissed loudly as he was unceremoniously dropped from his owner's arms.

"Happy Christmas to you as well, Granger," the caller said silkily. "Lovely house you've got here."

Hermione was shell-shocked.

"Malfoy?"

"Fantastic to see you, too, Granger."

She stared at him and blinked several times, convinced that she had gotten a little giddy from all the fumes in the dining room. Draco Malfoy – the Death Eater, the boy who plotted to kill Professor Dumbledore – could not possibly be standing on her doorstep on Christmas day, with a smug grin on his face.

"Bloody hell, I know I'm handsome, but it's quite rude to stare, you know!" he exclaimed loudly, and then burst into a fit of insane laughter.

She flinched and bent down quickly, picking up the fallen platter and biscuits, then straightened up again stiffly to put them aside.

Looking up she saw Malfoy grinning disarmingly at her, looking almost crazed.

"Malfoy…" she said again. Then, instead of standing there looking at him like an idiot she said, "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I was just in the neighbourhood," he said vaguely, leaning against the door frame and looking around.

"Everything all right out there?" came the voice of Hermione's father from the dining room.

"Yes, fine!" she called back, her voice a tad higher than usual. Then, turning back to the very blond problem in front of her, Hermione demanded, "Malfoy, what do you want?"

He was still looking highly amused, but said arrogantly, "What, can't I say hello to my old schoolmates? How is old Hogwarts, anyway?"

A tiny light bulb switched on in Hermione's brain. "You're totally piss-drunk, aren't you?" she said, a note of awe making its way into her voice. She had never before used the words 'piss-drunk' in her life. But somehow, there was no other way to describe Malfoy's state: he was way beyond 'inebriated', 'intoxicated', or even 'plastered'.

Predictably, Malfoy began giggling again. Hermione bristled, not taking a liking to the mirth Malfoy apparently saw in the situation. It wasn't _that_ odd for her to say less-than-polite things now and then.

"Now listen here, Malfoy-"

He wouldn't listen, but instead, kept giggling to himself like he was the only one in on some hilarious joke. Hermione felt annoyance begin to surface but quickly squashed it. He was, after all, not entirely himself. She made up her mind quickly that she could not possibly let a drunken Dark wizard wander around a Muggle neighborhood, for everyone's safety. She should at least figure out somewhere for him to go, somewhere away from Muggles. It was clear that he was in no condition to travel and Hermione had no clue where she could help him Apparate.

"Um … Mum, Dad? I think this atmosphere has gotten to me!" Hermione said firmly. "I'll just step outside for a moment to clear my head."

Still keeping her eyes glued to him, Hermione tugged her coat off its rack and stepped outside into the cold, closing the door behind her.

He had taken his wand out and begun to wave it, forming little swirls of shimmery dust in the air.

"Malfoy, stop it," Hermione said, waving her hand around distractedly as she looked around. "We're in a Muggle neighbourhood."

Malfoy smirked. "Oh, yes, the Muggles! I don't suppose they'd fancy a bit of magic to brighten up their holiday?" He whirled round, as if he expected to see a crowd of Muggles standing there. "Oy, Muggles! I know you're around!"

Hermione pulled her coat on nervously, eyeing the neighbours' windows. "Malfoy, be quiet…!"

Sure enough, the next door neighbour, Mr. Prescott, opened his window in the next moment and stuck his head out. "Have you no common decency! Shut your mouth, boy!" he shouted indignantly.

"Oh, look what you've done," Hermione muttered, giving Malfoy a glare. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Prescott! Merry Christmas!" she called over Malfoy's unbecoming guffaws.

Mr. Prescott was unappeased, and seemed to be muttering something about 'bloody children' under his breath. Shooting both Hermione and Malfoy a glare he slammed the window, grumbling all the while.

It was no use, said boy had already run into the street and was yelling: "Come out, Muggle filth!"

Hermione hurried after him pulling out her wand. "_Silencio!_" she muttered.

Malfoy was still jumping 'round the middle of the road like a maniac, but at least he wasn't making noise doing so. As he realized that he was no longer making any sound, Hermione had reached him and began pulling him to the sidewalk.

"You know, I have a great idea, Malfoy. Why don't we go to the park? There are bound to be plenty of Muggles at the park," she said. She could tell he had perked up, but then his pointed features were arranged into a childish pout and he refused to budge, pointing to his throat.

Hermione sighed. "I'll only perform the counter spell if you promise to stay quiet until we get to the park. And no magic, either."

Malfoy grudgingly nodded his consent. And then he was grinning that maniacal, drunk grin again. She took the spell off him, and he giggled and laughed, pulling Hermione off in the direction she had begun to steer him.

"So Granger, what have you been doing with yourself these days? Still an uptight mudblood with your nose stuck in a book?"

She sighed wanting desperately to hex the living daylights out of him. "Well that depends, Malfoy. Are you still a twitchy, annoying ferret with your nose stuck in the clouds?"

"Oh, you're a funny one, you are!"

"Well thank you. It means a lot coming from you."

They walked along in silence for a few moments, but then Malfoy opened his mouth again.

"Potty still prancing about like he owns the world, with the Weasel licking his shoes?"

She felt a stab of annoyance at her friends being referred to like that. "If you say so."

He laughed to himself, absent-mindedly twirling his wand around. It was shooting red sparks before Hermione noticed and made a swipe at it.

"Malfoy!" she reproached. "What did I tell you about magic? Not to mention you'll probably shoot an eye out-"

"Come on, what am I? A first year?" he scoffed.

"Well you're certainly acting like one," grumbled Hermione. Malfoy rolled his eyes but didn't say anything, and soon the only sound was the snow crunching beneath their feet.

All in all, everything was rather picturesque. Christmas lights were twinkling amicably from every direction and reflecting off the snow. Now and then, Hermione would glimpse celebrating families through their windows. If only she was walking with just about anyone but Draco Malfoy maybe the little stroll would be nice.

Before long, the two crossed a street and arrived at their destination.

The park was dark and silent, the only light coming from the moon and a few distant streetlights. The snow here was undisturbed, but under the moonlight, it seemed almost blue.

Hermione pulled her coat closer around her. Behind her Malfoy's footsteps stopped. Now that she could do magic without the risk of anyone seeing, she had to think of the best course of action. Hermione had no idea where Malfoy was staying, obviously, so where could he go that was safe? Hogwarts was a definite possibility, but who knows what would happen? All the staff were in the Order and even in his drunken state, Malfoy would remember that. He might attack someone ... or the Order might demand to interrogate him. They might turn him in to the Ministry. Hermione suddenly felt uneasy. Taking him to the Order was the right thing to do, but in the back of her mind there was a small voice that disagreed with the whole notion. It seemed unfair, almost like taking advantage of him in a vulnerable state. At the same time the Death Eaters wouldn't be so kind as to take anyone from the Order back to Hogwarts. She could just imagine Bellatrix Lestrange knocking on Professor McGonagall's office door. 'Hello, how are you, Professor? I found Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend, wandering around drunk. Here, have her back.'

No, they would kill and torture. _But that doesn't mean you should sink to their level._ Hermione paced around nervously.

Malfoy was quiet; his expression had become serious. He was looking past Hermione at nothing – just staring, like he was reliving a distant memory.

And when he spoke, it was so softly that Hermione could barely hear. "I didn't think it would actually go that far."

"…Excuse me?"

"Well, I knew what I was doing…but I never really understood. He said he would go after my family," he voice grew louder as his eyes bore into Hermione's. Malfoy's breathing was ragged now, as if he had just run a marathon.

Hermione stared at him and realised he was talking about sixth year. Including all of his planning and scheming to kill Dumbledore – that much was obvious, but why? A moment ago he was fine — not that being drunk was fine — and then, he turned serious. This was the first time they ever had a real conversation ... and it was about how he tried to kill Dumbledore.

"I miss school," Malfoy said with a humorless laugh. "I actually miss school. For the past 6 years I've spent my life there. I've whined and complained but it wasn't bad, was it? Spending your days trying to lie low and there's nothing to do but think...that's not exactly a game of Quidditch. Sometimes I think about what I would be doing if last year had gone differently. Maybe I would still be at school pretending to be important instead of sitting around in the middle of nowhere, wanted by the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Draco Malfoy regretting his actions? Draco Malfoy showing remorse? Draco Malfoy spilling his heart out to her, Hermione 'Filthy Mudblood' Granger?

"Well, you always seem to know what to do," he said suddenly, a sarcastic bite to his voice. "Tell me, Granger. What does the know-it-all think? That I should turn spy for the Order of the Phoenix? That I should renounce the Dark Lord and fight for all things happy and bright?"

"I..I…don't know," she half said to herself. He scoffed and shook his head, but didn't say anything.

The silence was deafening.

And then, "You know, I've always respected you, Granger." He turned and looked at her.

The smell of firewhiskey seemed to be growing stronger.

"You always seem to know what to do," he repeated, grey eyes suddenly thoughtful.

Hermione's head was spinning – that firewhiskey was really rather strong…was the alcohol somehow entering her system, or was it getting warmer…? And had Malfoy really been that close a moment ago?

There was a loud _crack_ and a dark figure appeared a few feet away. Hermione jumped but when she saw who it was, her mind didn't register any shock.

"Professor Snape."

He paused, his expression unclear in the darkness.

"Miss Granger," he said with the faintest trace of surprise. He strode forward to Draco.

"He's very drunk," Hermione said, looking at Malfoy.

Snape held Draco's arm tightly and nodded curtly. "Thank you, Miss Granger."

And with another _crack _the two disappeared.

--

Hermione was laboriously dragging copious amounts of trash to the curbside a few days after the New Year. After the last bagful she sighed and looked around. It was a quiet night. A week ago, on a night just like this…

but no. She already decided to tuck that night into the recesses of her memory. School would be starting in a few days and Hermione needed to get herself into a working state of mind. N.E.W.T.s, after all, were only a hop and a skip away. She still needed to revise for an Ancient Runes exam coming up. The list of things to be done always seemed endless, but Hermione supposed that was the way she liked it. She looked around the tranquil neighborhood again, then turned to trudge back to the warmth of her house.

Then, in the corner of her eye, Hermione thought she saw a silhouette in the shadows. She paused, alert, her hand already grasping her wand.

"Hello? Who's there?" she called.

There was a low sort of chuckle and who stepped out but Draco Malfoy.

"Now, now, there will be no need for wands, Granger."

And for the second time that holiday, Hermione Granger was stunned into disbelief.

"Oh, you've got to be joking," she muttered.

"I'm afraid I don't follow you—what's so funny?" the tall boy said, stepping forward. Hermione caught a whiff of expensive cologne.

She was just itching to ask him if he had gotten himself drunk again, but she realized there was a possibility Malfoy didn't even remember their little encounter.

"Umm, nothing," she said, bouncing a little on her heels.

_Just that you showed up drunk on my doorstep on Christmas, and that I could have turned you in because you were totally at my mercy but I didn't, and now here you are again._

"I see," he said after a short pause, regarding her with a raised eyebrow. She squirmed a little under his persistent gaze, avoiding his eyes. He was looking at her like she was doing something particularly amusing – patting her head and rubbing her stomach, perhaps.

"So, um, what exactly are you doing here, Malfoy?" she said airily. _Again?_

"Oh, I was just in the neighbourhood," he said vaguely, an odd expression on his face.

"Is that so?" Her mind worked furiously. Why was he being polite? He seemed perfectly sober - only without the trademark smirk. It felt odd to be standing in her yard, exchanging pleasantries with Draco Malfoy.

"Having a good holiday?"

It took her off guard.

"Er, yes, fine." Would it be rude of her to ask the same of him? She imagined he couldn't exactly be having some butterbeer after a long day of shopping with his friends in Hogsmeade, from what he was saying the other night.

Before she could decide he said, "Good to hear."

"And you?" It burst out of her mouth, driven by curiosity as to what he would say.

Malfoy looked thoughtful for a moment. "Good, I suppose. Funnily enough, I don't quite remember what I was doing on Christmas. I know I got up that day and drank about five vats of firewhiskey, so I must have gotten insanely drunk and passed out."

"Huh," she mumbled awkwardly. "That's a shame, I've always ... um ... loved Christmas."

"So have I." That odd tone in his voice had not gone away.

"It's lovely with all of the ... erm ... decorations and snow … and everthing …" she trailed off. She sounded like just about the stupidest person in the world. But what exactly does one say to another who's been at odds with her for seven years, shows up drunk, then makes another appearance a few days later just to chat?

"And always interesting company."

She stared. What was that supposed to mean? And why do people always wear so much cologne? However, the smell could always be attributed to the fact that Malfoy was suddenly a great deal closer. Those grey eyes of his were really very striking. She leaned the slightest bit forward to get a closer look, but then she got distracted by another part of his face. The lips which had so long sported such an unbecoming smirk were now relaxed. But his eyes were riveting…

It was almost magnetic – a soft but insistent pull between their lips and before Hermione could get her head around it; they were touching in the softest kiss. Her heart stopped in that moment – was it a second, or an eternity? – but then it was over. Her heart, which had stopped working at some point, started beating again. Possibly to make up for the time it had stopped. Malfoy pulled away ever so slightly, but then leaned closer so that his cheek was resting gently against hers.

"Thanks," he whispered. His hands left her arms – when had they gotten there?

A chill ran down her spine, no doubt from the cold.

His warm presence was gone in the next moment. A corner of his lip quirked up then with a _crack_ he Disapparated.

---

**Three things you want your fic to include:** Drunkenness, humor, a  
reference to A Christmas Story  
**Three things you do not want your fic to include:** marriage,  
conversations about school colors, overly obsessive behavior from  
either character


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